


Growing Pains

by prototyping



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: AU, Drama, F/M, Future Fic, this fandom needs more het
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-13
Updated: 2014-10-13
Packaged: 2018-02-21 01:04:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2449595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prototyping/pseuds/prototyping
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mikado and Celty have long since made their separate choices, but a reunion brings old reasons and older ties into question. Slight AU, some Mikado/Celty.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Growing Pains

Something in the air changed. A deepening of the shadows, maybe, or a slight charge in the atmosphere that couldn't be attributed to the clear night sky. The touch on his senses was as subtle as a breeze, but Mikado recognized it. These days, he could always tell when she was near.

He turned around and sure enough there she was, watching him in a silence that was either thoughtful or wary. Both, he figured, although they each knew she had nothing to fear from him. She might have once, but now there was no reason for it. She looked the same as she had on the first day he met her: the all-black riding suit, the same odd helmet. Her motorcycle wasn't immediately visible, but he knew that would be no different, either.

In contrast, Mikado had grown and changed with the years and had some literal scars to prove it. On the surface, he looked as normal as he ever had: casually dressed, a little too skinny for his slightly-under-average height. The kind of person one would expect to make up the crowds of a Tokyo city.

After a moment of mutual regard, Mikado spoke up. "Hey, Celty-san. I'm glad you came." The greeting was less formal than it would have once been. His smile was an honest one, tired but pleased.

She seemed to relax a little at that -- as intended -- and took the few steps necessary for her phone to be readable as she held it up. It was dark here under the bridge, but the glow of her old-fashioned screen revealed old scuffmarks and scratches and traces of wear on the device. She still hadn't replaced that old thing.

_Do you hold all your meetings in the middle of the night now?_

After reading it in a glance, Mikado looked up at the visor of her helmet, his sheepish expression reflected back at him. "Ah... sometimes, yeah. The important ones, anyway." He rubbed the back of his neck, for an instant seven years younger. "If it's a bad time..."

 _No._ Celty's typed response came quick, and Mikado imagined a sigh in her soundless voice. _It's fine. So what is it?_

He dropped the uncertainty and pocketed his hands in his long coat, a comfortable respite against the late autumn wind. For a moment his eyes stayed fixed on her phone, his face still and closed, and then he turned aside to stare down the empty sidewalk stretching out away from them.

"...No, it's not," he said finally, quietly. "I'm meeting you out here on the street like you can't be trusted or something." His mouth remained a flat line, but in his eyes was a look of bitter humor. "I'm sure you remember, Celty-san -- this was where you and I first talked. Kind of where we first met, really." Celty made no move to reply. "...'Why now?' That's... what you're thinking, isn't it? You're probably wondering if I'm being sincere or not, especially after last time... and you're trying to decide if--"

Celty all but shoved her phone at him, refusing to look his way. _you know I don't like it when you do that_

Mikado stopped, and for a moment his face was a solemn, intentional blank. Then he smiled sympathetically and nodded. "I'm sorry. I guess it's still a habit."

_Then learn to drop it._

He only nodded again, unruffled by her attitude. He deserved it, all things considered. "Anyway... I don't have a job for you. I just want to talk."

Lowering her phone, Celty considered it for a short stretch before typing back, _And yet you brought bodyguards._

She really didn't trust him anymore. It was a sad thought, but not surprising; Mikado had indeed been accompanied here, although he had told his guys to wait down the street and play it subtle. Celty obviously remembered faces better than he thought... or she just found Mikado predictable.

He shrugged lightly, almost helplessly. "The police would call it standard procedure, you know? Not that we're anything like the police," he added, predicting Celty's comeback. "But I promise: they don't have anything to do with you." It was a pretty childish method of reassurance, but as Mikado had said, he had his habits. He doubted having a few extra bodies present worried Celty, anyway; she'd likely just been emphasizing her preference for honesty.

She stared at him for a moment more, and then finally nodded once. Taking that as his cue to be completely casual, Mikado leaned against the cold railing at his back. "This might be personal, so you don't have to answer. But..." His eyes turned to her, now with a shade of regard -- even concern -- that he never showed anymore. "It's been six years... since you gave up searching. Why haven't you gone home?"

Celty's shoulders shifted slightly, invisible in the dark had Mikado not known what to look for. She was surprised by the question, but hadn't taken it the wrong way. Her reply was harder to decipher. _You called me out here to ask me that?_

"It's kind of rude, isn't it? But it didn't feel right asking in a text." He bowed his head a couple degrees, apologetic, but noticed Celty's gloved fingers drumming against her phone. As well as Mikado knew her by now, he couldn't always call her predictable, and for an instant he wasn't sure if he had pushed his luck. They had both lost people over the years, and he was well aware of how painful it could be to dredge up anything related to those memories. If she did refuse to answer, he wouldn't be offended, or surprised.

Taking a couple steps forward, Celty typed slowly, as if debating her words. _Are you asking as Mikado, or as Taro the info broker?_

That brought a fleeting, grim smile to his face. He shook his head. "No, this isn't business. Actually, I stopped taking inquiries about the Headless Rider a couple years ago. As far as the city's concerned, you're outside of my resources." He adjusted his collar as the wind picked up, but waited until he was looking at Celty again, his expression earnest, before continuing. "I'm asking because... it's something I should have asked before now. A long time ago, probably." There was no acting this time. It was a straightforward answer coming from honest feelings.

Celty must have picked up on that, because after lowering her phone she only paused a few seconds before hoisting herself up onto the railing beside him. She didn't answer right away and Mikado didn't push her; even the silence was nice, because the company was nicer. She was the only one he let his guard down around anymore, as rarely as he saw her. He never realized how much he missed and coveted that safe feeling until he was with her, but then in a couple days he'd forget again. Tonight would surely be the same, but he knew he had no place in asking more from her.

When next she replied, Celty held her phone between them, so Mikado could watch as she typed.

_What about you? Why haven't you gone home?_

Fair enough, he had to admit. Celty knew the things he was involved in now, the kinds of people he associated with... so for her to act as though they weren't even a factor in his decision to remain in Ikebukuro, she was obviously expecting -- or at least looking for -- a more substantial answer.

Mikado leaned his head back, absently examining the cracks and stains on the underside of the bridge. "Mm... it's because I have an obligation. I made promises in the past... and they're not something I can just walk away from."

Celty stared at him, and he detected skepticism even before she took to her keyboard. _Do you think they'd want you living like this over a promise?_

"No," he said softly. Of course she would know whom Mikado was thinking of and the doubt they'd caused him; he'd been much more open with her in the past and she wasn't the type to forget the things that mattered. "But that's all I can do. If I go home now, I think I'll always regret not having done something more."

_Is that the only reason?_

Direct as always, but that was one of many things Mikado admired about her. He shook his head once and gave her a sidelong look. "I won't lie to you, Celty-san. We both know I can't just walk away from everything."

 _You could_ , she corrected. _You have connections, Mikado. You could use at least one of them to make sure you weren't followed. You could get out of town if you really wan_

"Would you go with me?" Mikado asked suddenly, halting her typing in an instant. Celty had gone deathly still, her gaze still fixed down on her screen and fingers frozen over the keys. He hadn't expected that much of a shock, and in turn it surprised him a bit.

Mikado gave a short, self-conscious laugh as he looked forward again. "If I ever did, I mean... You'd probably get more job opportunities in a town where you weren't so famous. I just thought it'd work out for both of us that way." He spoke casually, but in instant hindsight it sounded too defensive.

After a noticable pause, Celty's shoulders twitched, what Mikado had come to label as her way of chuckling -- although her next words suggested that it had been a dry laugh. _Where would we even go? I don't think I'd fit in around a small town, you know. You still couldn't go home._

"Mm, that's true. What about where you come from, then?" he asked, running with the lighthearted half-joke.

 _You wouldn't like it,_ she typed quickly, her helmet bobbing knowingly. _The closest town is about twenty miles and I doubt they have internet even now._

Mikado broke into a grin, unable to help himself. "Ah, yeah... that'd be a problem, I guess. You really do know me."

_I don't think you've changed that much, deep down._

That returned his expression to neutral. He shuffled his feet a couple times, shifting his weight. "I think... you're the only one who believes that, Celty-san."

_What do *you* believe?_

Mikado stared at those words for a long moment, until that small green square was burned into his vision when he finally looked away.

_I've seen the way you are around those other guys. But I see the way you are around me, too. I like to think I'm not the one who's being played._

_But I could be wrong._

That stung a little. Then again, hadn't it always hurt when someone he cared about questioned him? Not that it was ever without good and legitimate reason, but...

"...Am I really that bad?" he wondered out loud.

_No. It's just that you blur the lines so much that it's hard to tell._

"But you can tell."

_I just know that you're a good actor._

_But I can tell that you miss them._

Mikado blinked, and then dropped his gaze until Celty added, _You're good at guessing my thoughts. Do you know what I'm thinking now?_

She still had hope for him. He could play his games as much as he wanted, but that hadn't changed his feelings in the end. He still cared, he still regretted... and that was why she still believed in him. That, he figured, was what she meant.

He nodded slowly, and then felt Celty gently grip his shoulder. Glancing over at her, he found it hard not to feel like that fifteen-year-old again, going to her for advice and guidance on things that were way over his head... How ironic that the tables had turned so completely. Back then, leadership and responsibility were his troubling concerns; now they were second nature, and it was the personal, the emotional, that he needed reassuring on.

"...I don't fake it around you," said Mikado at last. "I'm pretty sure... that you'd know if I tried." She was the only one left who had an idea of what really went on in his head, the only one he didn't need to lie to in order to watch his back. He did it once, to protect the wrong things, but now he knew better.

So perhaps now was the time to bring up a certain topic.

"Oh, right... I said I didn't have a job for you, but I do have a favor to ask." Pushing himself up, Mikado closed his fingers around the cold object in his pocket and took a few steps before turning around. "You're right that I have connections, but I can't really trust any of them with this."

Celty stiffened as he withdrew an oversized handgun, its silver finish glinting even in the low light. Mikado would have said he still knew little about caliber and guns in general -- although the way he handled this one, his grip careful and concise, suggested otherwise -- but he guessed from its size that this was well above what usually got around on the streets. Maybe a .45 or so. "Selling it wouldn't solve anything, but I'm afraid that's where it might end up in the long run."

_You want me to get rid of it?_

"If you don't mind. But first there's just one thing I need to take care of--" Smiling placidly, Mikado tapped the muzzle against his jawbone as he spoke.

He never saw Celty move. Suddenly there was an unrelenting pressure around his forearm, his wrist, even his fingers, firm enough that he couldn't so much as twitch a muscle in any of them. A glance over revealed unnaturally dark shadows twined around his arm, even the gun itself, keeping the weapon pointed safely skyward. Coolly, he looked ahead at where Celty was tensed and already on her feet, even as he recognized the misunderstanding.

"...It's not loaded."

If not for the sound of cars in the distance, Mikado could probably have heard a pin drop between them.

And then Celty was over him -- she was still a couple inches taller -- and grabbing his collar none too carefully to jerk him forward. Her free hand jabbed angrily at her phone, resulting in a number of typos when she showed it to him a moment later.

_yuou said you dpnt fake it aroundd me and then you pul that wHAT IS YOR PROBLM_

"I wasn't--" His voice was actually strained thanks to the pressure of his scarf tugging on his throat, but Mikado kept it steady. "I didn't mean to -- make it sound like that, I'm sorry--"

Celty stared him down for a few more beats before roughly relinquishing her grip, her shadow limb following suit. She retreated to the railing again, arms folded over her chest, and managed to look both annoyed and embarrassed.

"I'm sorry," Mikado repeated, wincing slightly as he straightened the front of his coat. "But... um. Thanks, anyway."

Celty glanced at him, looked away again, and then after a pause flashed one word in his direction.

_idiot_

He bit back a smile and set about wiping down the empty gun, not wanting to take any chances with fingerprints. He couldn't help feeling a little glad that Celty had reacted the way she did, which he knew was incredibly selfish of him. In his defense, he hadn't expected such a dramatic reaction -- he had been testing her, sure, but he'd just been planning to read her body language. Her kneejerk reflex had surprised him, and in a reassuring kind of way.

When he was done, he looked up and was surprised to see that she had already typed up something else.

_Why are you throwing it away, anyway?_

It was an easier question to answer than "How did you get it," and Mikado owed her for the favor, so he replied without preamble. "Because nothing good can come from it." He held it out by the muzzle, offering her the other end and a grim, distant expression to go with it. "If I turn my back now... I might just get shot in it later."

Or someone else would. And Mikado had already made one mistake of that magnitude.

_I meant why are *you* doing it? Is this what you do now?_

Good question, thought Mikado. It was part of what he did, yes: cleaning up the streets, in a manner of speaking, even if the methods he used to do so were oftentimes less than legitimate. He had his own goals and the people he used had theirs; at the end of the day it was all a matter of making sure he came out on top, preferably with less enemies than what he'd started out with.

Of course, gang-leading and information trading were each risky enough. Managing both meant some days were more risk than reward. If Celty was trying to determine whether he was the good or bad guy in the long run, that answer was hazy even for Mikado. Intentions aside, he was both and neither, just as they both knew that he only played the pacifist when it suited him.

"It's one of the things I do, yeah," Mikado replied. "But I guess the news only catches the darker side of things."

As if that answer were the right one, Celty finally took the gun from him and examined it carefully. It was a cursory curiosity, because a second later more shadows wrapped around the weapon, covering it completely and muffling the sound of screeching metal as they crushed it. In the span of a couple heartbeats, the gun was reduced to a tennis ball-sized lump of scrap metal.

 _I knew you were a fan of vigilantism, but I never thought you'd go this far,_ Celty remarked, once Mikado had wrapped and pocketed the gun's remains. _How's that working out?_

"I've made it this far, so I guess that means it's going well." A slow, sad smile slipped onto his face, and then he shook his head and looked out into the distance again. "That would be the right thing to say... but I'm more selfish than that. Honestly, I feel like even the bad days are good, because I'm still involved and doing something."

_More habits?_

Mikado regarded her response for a short pause before nodding, the smile gone. His voice dropped a little, as if he were speaking in part to himself. "...I wanted to stop feeling this way. That was part of the reason I destroyed the Dollars back then. And Blue Square." Only to end up right where he'd left off: still unable to walk away, still wanting the thrill of danger, but now using an excuse to satisfy those desires. "...I really am the worst," he murmured. A dead, humorless laugh pushed the last word out of his throat.

The only movement was that of Celty's fingers, the only sound the tapping of her keys. When they stopped a minute later, she hesitated before showing it, and the pessimistic side of Mikado wanted to take that as a sign that he was right.

To his surprise, he suddenly felt the weight of her hand on his head. He blinked at her, and her helmet tilted in an amused manner as she gave him a gentle shake. Only after he'd taken that in did she show him her phone.

 _Aren't you being hard on yourself? Even if it's a guilty pleasure, you're still doing something good in the end. Actually, it would be kind of sad if it just made you miserable every day._ She withdrew it long enough to add, _And don't compare yourself to back then. Six years is a short time, believe it or not, so I'd be more surprised if you said you didn't feel that way, at least a little._

Mikado looked from the phone to Celty, but she made no other movement. He only gave her a thoughtful sound, and that soon slipped into a quiet huff of laughter. "I'm sorry. It's just... I guess we really haven't changed. You still know just what to say to me."

_Isn't that why you called me here?_

"N-No, I wasn't trying to..."

Celty laughed -- rather, she did her version of laughing, which was every bit the same as a human except for the lack of sound and expression. The way she briefly shook and held her hand over where her mouth would be... It made Mikado smile wearily. He could picture that laugh, even if he'd never heard it and never would, just like he pictured the fluctuations in her soundless tone when reading her messages, or the shifts in her invisible features. The strange thing was, he never felt like he was "missing" anything; Celty was fine the way she was, his adapted idea of normal... Or more than just fine, actually. She was closer to _ideal_ , as often as he relied on her to be reality's wake-up call. The one steady, trustworthy person left in his life.

Maybe that was why he...

"You, ah... never did answer me, actually," Mikado pointed out, interrupting her amusement. "About why you're still here."

Celty appeared attentive at that, probably having forgotten as well. _Oh, yeah. You didn't figure it out already?_

Puzzled, Mikado raised an eyebrow. "Um... should I have?"

_It's like you said, you have people you can't walk away from and forget. That's probably true for everyone in this city._

"Including you," he deduced softly. Celty nodded, but Mikado frowned slightly, unable to help his curiosity. What could she have left? She was alone now, as far as he knew, with no greater purpose to fulfill that he was aware of. Alone like him.

Or was that...

He looked up at her, eyes widening in both startled realization and a flicker of old pain. She couldn't be staying because of _him,_ could she?

Whether he would have asked her outright then and there, Mikado would never know, because Celty touched his shoulder again as she showed him the message she already had prepared.

_It was good seeing you, Mikado._

He stared at her, unasked questions and untold feelings shifting just beneath the surface -- but as usual, he acted on neither and kept quiet, only nodding in acknowledgement of the pre-good-bye. Unexpectedly, Celty didn't just let go; her hand moved up, touching and then briefly holding his face in her palm. Mikado tensed in surprise, his breath catching. Her glove was strangely warm, at least until he remembered that it was technically a part of her.

For an instant he debated whether he should do something in response -- cover her hand with his, maybe, since he was at a loss for words -- but as quickly as Celty had given the gesture, she took it back. She retreated a step, paused, and then swiftly fixed his scarf for him, tucking it neatly into the front of his coat and all. Then she flashed him one final message.

_Yellow still looks a little strange on you._

Mikado gave a light, distracted chuckle. "Goodnight, Celty-san."

It was probably a silly thing, having fallen in love with her. Either silly and harmless, or a huge mistake -- only time would tell which, but that was a chance he'd long since taken. If Celty had figured him out before now, she likely had wise reasons for not saying anything. If she hadn't, well... Mikado had his own wise reasons for not enlightening her directly.

Slipping her phone into her sleeve, she raised a hand in farewell and disappeared the way she'd come. A moment later he heard tires on the cement, the only evidence of her silent bike's departure; a little after that, a horse's cry was carried back on the wind.


End file.
